Ending Up Where You Need to Be
by Sephaya
Summary: Red has decided Lizzie needs a break from the on-going chaos of the Blacklist and Tom and takes her to dinner with two old friends. Two anonymous guest stars make an appearance. Takes place before Lizzie has learned about Red and Sam.
1. Chapter 1

There is no moment to stop and argue, no pause between his first word and his final gesture that left her room to complain. By the time she had considered her arguments the car was already on the tarmac.

Elizabeth Keen knew that Red often managed to resolve her objections long before she even made them and she secretly wondered, sometimes, why she still bothered to fuss. At least when he swept her up in the frenetic energy of his murky plans she felt able enough to keep her head above water, and it was reassuring to know she wasn't swimming against the current. Considering her life lately, this was probably the best she could hope for.

She satisfied herself by glaring at him as he left the car and waved cheerily at the steward waiting at the door of his plane. She got out as well and walked with him towards the plane. His hand was tucked neatly in the crook of her elbow, though she was sure that in old movies it went the other way around. He pulled her up the stairs gently.

"Go ahead, Lizzie, let me have it - 'who, what, where, when and why?' Ah, before you begin. Yes, Cooper already knows and no, I didn't have time to brief Donald."

They reached the top of the stairs where the stewardess was waiting. With a polite grimace at the attendant, Elizabeth turned to Red and bared her teeth in a quiet snarl. He regarded her with a fond expression for a moment and then winked.

"After you, sweetheart."

The plane was as luxurious as it had been the last time they had flown together. As she took her seat, Elizabeth wondered idly if she could pinpoint the exact moment when she had fallen down the rabbit hole. The door closed with an audible snick and she could feel the distant rumble of take off.

"Did you let our friend Tom know that you would be away overnight?" Red's rasp broke into her train of thought.

She looked over to where he sat across the aisle. "Yes."

"I'm sorry to steal you away like this, my dear, but things will soon be getting complicated and I thought you could use a break. I know it's been…stressful. This is an opportunity to take care of a few things with one fantastic fringe benefit attached. Mixing business and pleasure can really be quite an efficient use of one's time."

The stewardess approached.

"I'll have a beer, please, Lizzie, anything for you?"

"Just water with lemon, thank you."

She stared at Red. He met her gaze and, as always, she strove to find something dangerous and unforgivable behind his seemingly frank and open expression. But, again, like always, there was nothing to see. Lizzie's anger, that tight fist in her chest that she swore had been clenched almost since her birth, always seemed to loosen slightly in these moments with him. She wanted someone to trust, she wanted to trust him.

Sometimes she saw things in his face, the shadow of some banked warmth that she longed for him to reveal fully. She wondered if she could trust this desire to get closer to him, to rely on him. There were moments when she thought she might be ready to accept his care for her but these always ended in suspicion and anger. She had left him so many times already, hadn't she, stormed off in anger swearing that this time she was done with him. Inevitably though, just when she thought there was no one to turn to, she would be surprised yet again by this unbreakable connection that endured beyond all reason.

She sipped her water, not wanting to break the silence. She was beginning to realize that her only certainty came in moments like these - when it seemed that they had reached some kind of accord. He was never truly open in his conversation, but when she sat quietly with him like this, she thought she came closer to him than anyone else had in years.

"No complaints this time, Red. Just one question, where are we going?"

His mouth quirked on one side, and she suddenly felt the anticipation she always associated with being given a gift.

"Lizzie, we are going to dinner, and I hope you're hungry, because it might be the best dinner of your life."

Red refused to divulge anything further about their destination. So she finished her water and settled in to watch Red as he flipped through some papers extracted from the briefcase he had brought on the plane. Eventually she dozed, slipping in and out of wakefulness to see him alternate between watching her and handling some rather loud phone calls. She woke fully only when the plane touched down. Stretching stiff muscles, she was disconcerted to find herself covered with a warm blanket. When had that happened?

They left the plane, and she left her coat with the stewardess as the climate of wherever they were was warm. There was a car waiting, an older model Mercedes, obviously a luxury purchase of several years past. The day was just coming on to evening and with the warm breeze blowing on her face she wondered if there was a beach anywhere nearby where she could watch the sunset.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where are we?" She yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand. Red looked at her, and smiled at the open curiosity on her face.

"Cuba, Lizzie, some old friends are in town and wanted to have dinner, I thought you'd enjoy the company."

"Who are they?"

"Let's just call them old and dear friends. I met them years ago and we bonded over our mutual interest in tropical accommodations, among other things. I'll let them introduce themselves to you as they like. One thing I can tell you, though, he's a wonderful chef, truly a wizard in the kitchen."

"Good thing I didn't eat lunch then."

"That's the spirit, Lizzie! Now you see why I hustled you out of DC so quickly? Come now, we just have time for a stroll on the beach before dinner, if I can tempt you?"

He crooked his elbow for her to take and motioned with his other hand towards the car.

She wanted to laugh out loud, or maybe punch him in the arm. Her time with him was an almost constant razor's edge walk among those two feelings. But she was tired, and the thought of just going along with this farce was very tempting indeed. She looked at his face and the expectation in his eyes and decided, _what the hell, just this once_.

As the car drove along the busy streets she watched the bustle outside her window with an unexpected interest. How long had it been since she'd been able to focus on simple external pleasures? She'd been so caught up in the way her life had spiraled out of control. She turned to Red and smiled suddenly, an easy bright smile, one she thought she hadn't worn in months.

"So, no clever nicknames? He's not 'The Chef' or anything spooky like that?"

Red laughed at her words, a delighted smile on his face.

"Well, there were nicknames long ago but he's left that all behind. Once he met his wife, he retired from those sorts of things. He's a bit of a scholar now and has some other particular intellectual interests. But his primary interest is his wife, he adores her. It's rather inspiring really, finding that kind of love after the rather...unusual life he led."

"And does she mind being his main object of study?"

"No, I don't think so," he paused, "sometimes in life, when you reach rock bottom you need to leave everything behind and just run. But if there's someone there to run with you? That's something very precious . They know that better than most" He smiled at her then, that quirk at one corner of his mouth that made her want to push the other side up to match.

The car pulled into a side street suddenly, and she looked away from Red to peer out the window at the houses. The street was a dead end and the car eased to a stop at a small but well-kept house at the end. The evening was further along now, with the first hint of darkness in the air. She could smell the ocean and hoped there was a beach somewhere nearby. They left the car together and she followed Red as he ducked down a small path on one side of the small house. The lights in the house cast a faint light on the path. She heard the faint voices of people inside, a woman's warm laugh.

The path was set with flagstones and curved around the small house, passing by its small terrace and even smaller back yard. She followed Red around the garden and down a few steps. The end of the path was shadowed and dark in the dusk so when she suddenly walked into a very solid, very male back she wasn't too surprised. A strong hand gripped her elbow and held her upright. He had stopped where the path ended and she saw that the flagstones at their feet had given way to sand. Raising her head to look over his shoulder she saw a wide stretch of sand bounded by the dark band of a restless ocean. Band of clouds tinted red and orange stretched across the endless sky and she caught her breath in appreciation.

"Wow!"

Red hummed his agreement. "Shall we take a walk? We have a few minutes before we are due for dinner."

She was already kicking off her shoes and pushing up her pant legs. He laughed as he saw her and proceeded to so the same. They stepped onto the beach and strode along the sand parallel to the crashing waves. They walked along together for awhile. She enjoyed his presence at her side and when she tore her glance from the panoramic splendor of the evening sky to look over at Red they exchanged a smile that made her breath hitch. Sometimes she could admit to herself how enticing it was to have someone understand her the way he seemed to. She wondered if he hoped she could offer him the same acceptance some day. Her fingers twitched slightly, she wanted to touch him, but she was swift to remind herself that this was just an interlude, a moment out of time and nothing done by her would have any effect on the chaos and trouble that lay in wait for them in Washington. Their lives were complicated enough as it was.

Eventually, she increased her speed to walk ahead of him. Reaching the waterline she stopped finally and faced the water, trying to impress the scene into her memory. The crashing waves and the glorious sky, and curiously, the knowledge of the warm presence at her back. For the first time in months she let her whirling anxieties and questions go for one brief moment and let herself just be.

A touch on her arm finally awoke her from her ruminations. She turned, Red was smiling still, a relaxed full smile that she returned.

"Time for dinner?"

"Yes, it's not far, just back to the house we parked at."

"Is that your house?"

"Hmm, no," he seemed amused by the question, "it belongs to a mutual acquaintance. But it has a kitchen well stocked enough to suit our host this evening and it's more intimate than a restaurant, so we borrowed it for the evening."

They had reached the flagstone steps. Red kneeled by the lowest step and began to put his shoes back on. She rested her hand on a tree and balanced on one leg to do the same. When she finished she reached down to touch his shoulder. He looked up at her questioningly.

"Red? Thanks for this."

He straightened slightly but stayed kneeling on the ground, and she felt the difference in their heights suddenly. She could almost see the moment stretch around her and she captured it in her heart, stored it away like a photograph. He reached up to touch her wrist gently, "Lizzie, remembering the things in life that are bigger than our own problems is the only way to come out of these times sane. I know that. And to see these types of things again from your perspective is a gift. It's more than I ever hoped for."


	3. Chapter 3

When Red knocked on the front door, she stood behind him and fidgeted slightly, brushing at her trousers for any stray pieces of sand. She heard footsteps approach and the door swung open to reveal a beautiful woman of medium height with dark eyes and auburn hair that shone in the soft light of the hallway. Although her appearance definitely made a memorable first impression, Elizabeth was struck by the life that blazed from her eyes, a striking complement to the fiery highlights of her hair. Contrasting the woman's vibrancy with Red's restraint and studied _joie de vivre_, Elizabeth realized that tonight could be very interesting indeed.

"Red!"

The woman's smile was warm and welcoming. That laugh she had heard earlier as they passed by must have been hers.

"Hello!" Red's voice was warm, and as he turned to Elizabeth she could see that his happiness, for once, was not feigned. "May I introduce Elizabeth Keen. Lizzie, this is...what is your name tonight, my dear?"

The woman's smile brightened. "Well…"

"Beatrice, her name is Beatrice." The name, spoken with a foreign intonation, _Italian?_, came from a dry voice whose owner was hidden in the dark hallway beyond.

'Beatrice' turned and looked into the shadows. "Really?" there was a laugh in her voice, "Are you in that kind of mood tonight? Isn't that a little obvious?"

Elizabeth could hear the slight trace of an American drawl under the woman's warm voice. _Midwestern? Southern?_ She couldn't tell. Beatrice stepped back and Red ushered her into the house and closed the door behind them.

She turned to Elizabeth then and offered her hand to shake, "Welcome, Elizabeth. Come on through. Come on, Red." She gestured for them to proceed her, "Elizabeth Keen, let me introduce you to my husband."

As they drew closer to the end of the hall, Elizabeth finally discerned the source of the voice. A man stood in the shadows, holding a cane and dressed formally but comfortably in a linen suit. He was not much taller than his wife, and his hair was black, but streaked liberally with grey. His eyes were hidden by slightly darkened glasses.

His wife brushed past them with murmured excuses to stand next to him, "Elizabeth Keen, this is my husband." She turned to him, "Well, any clever more thoughts? Who are you this evening?" Her tone was warm and her expression reflected her obvious affection for the man at her side.

He was significantly older than his wife, but despite his age- and the cane, he exuded a dangerous vitality Elizabeth imagined to be even more fatal in practice. She couldn't begin to guess what it was exactly that he had retired from doing, but he looked lethal and it seemed likely he didn't need the cane beyond its usefulness in causing harm.

He looked down at his wife, and Elizabeth suddenly understood what Red had meant by his earlier comments. The man's focus, deadly and sharp, consumed his wife whole, scorching the air around them. The hallway seemed suffocating suddenly, and the shadows darkened. Elizabeth took a shallow breath and was glad for Red's warm and familiar presence at her side.

The gentleman reached for Beatrice's hand and, raising it to her lips, kissed the back of it with a slight bow.

"I am but your humble supplicant, just one of a nameless adoring mass. But you, my dear, deserve a title, a _paen_ befitting your glorious spirit. Tomorrow is the anniversary of our first meeting and 'in the book that is my memory' is written "_Incipit Vita Nova_." He kissed her hand again, "Tonight I have no name, but your name, my dear, is 'Beatrice.'"

Beatrice leaned forwards and kissed her husband on the cheek, murmuring something in a language Elizabeth didn't recognize. He smiled warmly at her, then turned to Red and offered his hand. "Red, a pleasure, as always."

"How are you?" Red was, as always, irrepressible.

He turned to Elizabeth then, offering his hand to her and clasping it briefly.

"How do you do?" He looked at her for a moment. Suddenly his expression sharpened and he asked in a cutting voice, "Red, really... federal or local?"

Elizabeth recognized her chance to join the strange conversation, "FBI, actually."

He looked at her again, and turned to his wife. "Well, perhaps you have something you can chat about then." he said dryly. He took her hand again. "My dear, let us invite our guests to sit. Please excuse me, Red, Ms Keen, come in, can we offer you a drink?" He turned and led the way through the dark hallway into a large main room on fire with the last gleaming rays of the sunset outside.


	4. Chapter 4

The living room was plain,with simple wooden furnishings softly lit by the two dim lamps her host had turned on as they entered. The room was primarily illuminated by the last grasping fingers of sunlight that tore through the clouds on the horizon. Elizabeth was curled up on the couch, alone, nursing a glass of wine. Pleading the business that had brought Red there to begin with, the couple had made her comfortable with a drink before ushering him into another room. She could hear the rumble of their conversation near by but found that she had little interest in the particulars.

The wine was superb, and she expected the supper to be as well considering the smell wafting from the direction of the kitchen. Elizabeth distantly examined the dragging relaxation the wine imposed on her limbs. She prodded at her relaxed indifference, was the wine to be blamed for her strange mood as well? Since the plane she had felt a barrier slam down between the problems awaiting her in DC and this strange surreal dinner party. She resolved to break that down tomorrow. Tonight she was resigned to following Red's lead. The question of the identity of this strange couple floated across her thoughts but was dismissed as irrelevant. Red would see her safely back tomorrow morning. Considering his attitude it seemed unlikely that they would be appearing on the Blacklist. It was obvious they were completely wrapped up in each other, and she felt pretty sure that they were only intent on guaranteeing their privacy. But despite her lethargy, Elizabeth acknowledged one fact very clearly to herself, she was more than happy that her host was retired. She would not have wanted to deal with him as an adversary, not even over the barrel of a gun

Finally, she heard a door shut and footsteps on the wooden floor. Beatrice strode back into the room with a glass of wine in her hand. She crossed over to Elizabeth and settled herself in the opposite end of the couch.

"Sorry, that took so long. They're done now, but they got started on something else so I guessed I'd come on out and see how you were doing."

Elizabeth wondered what two such personalities could find so mutually interesting. "What were they talking about?"

Beatrice grinned with a friendly open look that sparked an answering smile from her guest.

"Italian skin cream."

Elizabeth started to laugh and after a moment her host joined her.

Silence fell for a moment after their laughter died away. Elizabeth turned to the other woman and in the dim light observed her with an obviously professional eye. She noticed Elizabeth's analysis but let it pass with a raised eyebrow. Although older, Beatrice still carried herself in a way that spoke of an active and vigorous lifestyle, and Elizabeth wondered how she handled a gun. Their eyes met again and they shared an acknowledgment of their mutual capability.

"So, you said you're FBI."

"Yeah." She paused, "That's how I met Red, actually, although…" Her voice trailed off, she wasn't sure what to discuss. She didn't want to think about it really, not now. She let the words die away, and took a sip of her wine, not wanting to be encouraged to speak by the other woman's interest.

"That sounds like an interesting story," she waited until Elizabeth met her eyes again, "but I'm thinking it's something you don't feel like discussing right now."

"No. Sorry." As long as the topic was on the table she thought she could ask, and refocus the discussion away from herself. "Were you in law enforcement? Your husband said something." She gestured vaguely with the wine glass.

The other woman took a sip from her glass, then suddenly turned and brought her leg up to sit sideways on the couch. "Yep," she said slowly, "years ago, I did some work with the DEA, some BATF task forces and... some other... stuff. Anything else I can't really say, you understand."

Elizabeth nodded; suddenly she heard Red give one of his barking laughs. She cocked her head towards the the direction of the sound and heard a softer masculine laugh that continued as Red's died away.

"Still think they're talking about skin cream?"

"I'm pretty sure they talking about something equally as ridiculous." A laugh colored her voice for a moment, "'Maybe 'shoes or ships or sealing wax?'" She paused.

"Maybe cabbages and Kings?"

They both laughed as Elizabeth finished the stanza. Still smiling, Beatrice stood and retrieved the wine bottle from the sideboard. Sitting down again she refilled her own glass and then leaned forward to fill the one Elizabeth held out to her. Placing the bottle on the table in front of the couch she resumed her previous position.

On the other hand," lowering her glass, Beatrice tilted her head back and her eyes examined the wall behind Elizabeth for a moment, "considering the results, I guess it's not such a bad thing."

Her gaze turned back towards Elizabeth, who felt a heated flush sweep across her face.

Beatrice just smiled at her. There was no mocking in it, but neither was there sympathy, this was the curious gaze of a scientist trying to understand how a subject responded to new, and perhaps unpleasant, stimuli.

Elizabeth raised her hand to her brow, feeling the heat of her blush, "No comment." She needed to turn the conversation back to safer subjects. Her thoughts on Red, any aspect of him, were too unsettled to be voiced aloud. "I loved that book when I was a kid. My dad read it to me so many times. I think we wore the book out."

Raising her eyebrow at the obvious deflection, Beatrice humored her and let the subject pass. "I read it in the orphanage when I was a kid. I didn't like it, then." Suddenly the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "Didn't have much use for whimsy when I was young."

"And since then?"

"Well," she raised her hand and gestured towards the doorway behind her, "he has a fine appreciation for the whimsical." A laugh warmed her voice. "You could say it's one of the first things I learned about him. So, eventually, I learned to appreciate it, too."

_AN: Quote from "The Walrus and the Carpenter" By Lewis Carroll_


End file.
